The Dark Lord Really Does Know All
by memory-flower
Summary: What if Voldemort knew a lot more things than the Order thought he did? Dumbledore realises what this could mean after Harry has a little "episode" at Grimmauld Place. Takes place summer before OOTP.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So this idea came to me just randomly and I decided to write about it. It's not my first fan fiction, just my first fan fiction that I've actually kind of liked. It takes place just after GOF, summer of OOTP. R & R pleeeeeease!**

**Chapter 1: **

Number 12 Grimmauld Place was quiet. The Order were hosting a meeting (about who knows what) in the kitchen, and nobody was to disturb them. Professor Dumbledore had come in specially, along with McGonagall, Snape and several other important Order members that were rarely seen, to discuss important topics.

Harry had returned for a mere week and a half to the Dursleys this summer, the Weasleys having collected him early due to the prospect of Lord Voldemort rising at the end of the last school year.

Harry shivered and found himself thinking. Well, wondering really. What was Voldemort doing? It had been nearly 2 months since his rising, and his scar hadn't even bothered him much. It was like the most dangerous dark wizard of all time had suddenly just decided to disappear! Which was a ridiculous thought, as Voldemort had been bursting to regain strength for a long, long time, Harry knew.

They were seated in the sitting room off the main entryway, participating in quiet activities, so as not to disturb the Order's progress. As Mrs Weasley sternly pointed out, the discussion was "_quite_ serious, so any noise and I'll be forced to glue your lips shut!" Hermione was curled up on a chair in the corner, Ginny in a chair on her right, and both girls were doing some sort of quiz in a copy of _Witch Weekly_, and occasionally erupting into silent fits of giggles. Whenever this happened, Ron would peer up from the match of Wizard Chess he was playing with Harry to give the girls a curious look. Harry was losing spectacularly, never mind the advice Fred and George were whispering on either side of him.

However Harry's mind was occupied and he wasn't paying particular attention to what was going on in the sitting room. Though he knew it was near hopeless, he couldn't help himself from trying to catch a bit of the conversation happening across the hall in the kitchen. Once in a while, he'd hear someone start to raise their voice ("But that's not reasonable!" "It's the only way, stop arguing!"), and would snap his head up, eager to hear more. But every time, it was followed by someone quieting the shouter ("_Shush! Do you want anyone to hear?"_), and the silence was even more pronounced than before the outburst.

"Check mate," Ron whispered. "Come on, Harry, that's the fourth time in two hours I've beaten you!"

"_Shhh!_" hissed Hermione from the corner, putting her finger to her lips.

Ron put his hands in front of him in mock defence, raising his eyebrows.

Lowering his voice, he said so only Harry could hear, "If you're trying to hear what's going on don't bother."

"But-" Harry started to protest, but Ron cut in.

"Look, anything we've heard today doesn't mean anything," He hissed in a low voice. "You're just setting yourself up for disappointment. Mum's probably put a silencing charm on the kitchen anyway, or we would've heard more yelling an hour ago."

"But-" Harry tried again.

"_No_, Harry," Hermione spoke quietly from the corner. "Maybe...maybe it's best if we don't hear. We might get the wrong idea. And anyway, Ron's right. They wouldn't let anything slip unless we either already know or it's not important." Her voice was firm and steady, and she seemed to think Harry had got her point, because she let it drop.

Harry sighed and glanced at his watch; it was nearly midnight and he hadn't gotten much sleep lately. In fact, he had been avoiding sleep altogether, lying awake for hours on end, dwelling on what he didn't know.

It's those nightmares, he thought darkly to himself. Every night he had revisited the graveyard, seen Cedric Diggory die, seen that black figure rise from the cauldron...but his scar hadn't burned, so he knew it was he, Harry, putting those images into his mind, and not Voldemort.

Maybe he knew I'd suffer more if I had no idea what he was doing, where he was, Harry pondered. He knew Voldemort had no idea of the connection they shared, but perhaps Voldemort was keeping his emotions in check for another purpose? Once again, his thoughts shifted to the meeting in the kitchen.

Lost in scrutiny as he was, it was a surprise to feel his scar twinge suddenly with sudden and violent pain. He gasped slightly and gripped his forehead. Immediately, four other heads swivelled to face him, looking anxious.

"I'm fine," he whispered quickly. "Really, it was just...it was nothing."

He lowered his hand to the couch and leant back casually, pretending he was feeling normal. He quickly realised he was not fine at all.

_Dark shapes were swimming in front of his eyes, becoming clearer every second. Soon he was gazing upon a familiar scene in front of him: the graveyard. He gasped when he saw Cedric lying face up, bleeding from the mouth on the bloodstained grass. His eyes gazed unseeingly into Harry's own horrified ones. _

"_No..." he gasped, the pain in his head half blinding him. He fell to his knees._

_A high cold laugh tore through the biting cold night air. Harry felt more pain as he recognized who was there._

_The laughter grew louder and stronger and crueller. Agony ripped at Harry eyes, his head, his lungs, his stomach... It was as though a hundred thousand Crucios had been placed upon him. _

_Memories of terrible things flashed past his eyes, some were too gruesomely horrid to be his own. Each time something flew by, his eyes burned, as if they were bleeding and the blood was on fire._

_He couldn't breathe...he couldn't see...his head was ripped open, he knew it...he wanted to die of the pain...please let it end..._

_He heard screaming, his throat hurt...was _he _screaming?_

_/_

Hermione saw Harry first, saw him lean back and close his eyes...and then heard him gasp, then start to fall sideways off the couch. She leapt up from her chair and caught him. He was groaning and gasping, his breathing hitching.

Ginny woke from where she had been dozing for the last several minutes with a start.

Ron jumped up to help.

"What's wrong with him?" He said, not bothering to keep his voice down; he didn't care if the Order heard him now.

Harry was shaking, almost convulsing, his eyelids twitching and his eyes rolling slightly whenever they did.

"Just...just wait. Maybe he'll calm down on his own..." Hermione bit her lip and hoped for the best.

And then the screaming started. Harry, eyes now squeezed shut tight, began actually convulsing, screaming bloody murder, his breathing rattling in his chest. Ron and Hermione strained to lower him onto the couch, Ron holding him as still as possible.

"Go get Dumbledore!" Hermione told the twins, a lump in her throat. Ron just stared palely at his struggling friend.\

/

They hadn't heard the screaming from the kitchen through the newly put silencing charms. So it was quite surprising to hear a loud, sharp knock on the door (the only thing they hadn't silenced, so as to hear if something was wrong).

Lupin opened the creaking door and everyone's faces turned to peer confusedly at Fred and George's white faces.

"It's Harry...he's not doing too well," George put mildly, wringing his hands together awkwardly.

And then they heard the screaming.

Dumbledore jumped up and followed Fred and George hurriedly from the room, followed closely by Sirius, Lupin, Mr Weasley and Snape. Everyone else exchanged wondering glances.

Across the hallway, through the kitchen door, Harry lay sprawled on the couch, gasping now, being restrained by Ron and Hermione. They were attempting to keep him on the couch.

Dumbledore took one look at Harry, and then proceeded to pull out his wand and mutter things under his breath, walking to stand in front of the pained figure on the couch. He brushed Ron and Hermione away and knelt beside Harry, never touching him, but Harry slumped and calmed after a minute or so. After another minute of everyone pondering what he could be doing, Dumbledore stood, and turned to Severus with a pointed look. Snape seemed to know what to do, because he spun on his heel, and a minute later they heard the gentle closing of the door (so as not to wake Mrs Black).

Dumbledore picked up Harry as though he were merely a particularly heavy book and began walking toward the stairs, gesturing for Sirius to follow him. After another couple minutes of their absence, Dumbledore returned without Sirius, and turned to face Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred and George.

"Please explain what you saw happen." He sat and gazed politely at Hermione, who began to speak.

"W-well, sir, we were sitting in the chairs a-and just...just doing quiet activities, like you said, and Harry leant back and the next minute he was...he was doing...that." she swallowed, obviously overwhelmed and shocked.

Ron picked up and finished what Hermione had started.

"He leant back, and then he sort of gasped and went all shaky. Then he just...went unconscious and started gasping and screaming." Ron's face was still pale.

"And he appeared in pain?" Dumbledore prompted calmly.

"Y-yeah...we didn't know what to do; he hasn't really done that before...well, that much..." Ron grimaced.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and nodded, hand on his chin.

"Thank you." He addressed the teenagers in the room. "Please return to your rooms. Harry will evidently not be joining you tonight, but I assure you he will soon."

They knew he would not say anymore on the manner. Grimly, they shuffled quietly upstairs, where they would continue to talk about Harry and what could possibly have happened.

Sirius and Dumbledore had placed Harry in a small one person guest room across the hall from Sirius' bedroom. It was the quietest part of the house, allowing Harry plenty of rest in which they were positive he had been avoiding. They had stripped him of all but his knickers and had laid him underneath the covers of the bed.

Sirius was sitting on the end of the bed, wiping Harry's sweat-covered face with a cool cloth; Harry was still gasping and moaning, still in pain...

"The calming spell will wear off in a minute, and then we can wake him and see what he needs," Dumbledore entered the room, with Snape, who was carrying a black box full of potions and potions supplies. Snape began preparing what to give to Harry. Dumbledore sat down beside Sirius to wait.

Sure enough, a minute later, Harry was gasping and breathing raggedly. But it was the next minute that had Sirius' stomach in knots.

Harry yelled and clutched at his scar. The pain had apparently reached an intolerable level, because Harry's hands were thrown by his sides, and he vomited over himself. Some of it was blood.

"Harry, wake up. You're alright," Sirius soothed his godson, wiping his face and clearing the vomit off him with a flick of his wand. "Wake up now, Harry. Come on, you're alright." Sirius' face was creased with stress and worry.

Slowly, Harry woke and calmed. Sirius withdrew his hand and Harry grabbed his face and groaned.

/

The blackness cleared, as did some of the pain. Harry's vision started to clear a bit; he found himself staring up at Sirius, anxiety and worry etched into every feature. All too soon, Harry realised he had soiled himself and thrown up all over himself, too. Apparently, his stomach hadn't ruled out retching again, for he felt it clench and his chest burn as he retched once more, dry heaving, and then, breathing heavily, his stomach relaxed. Sirius waved his wand to clean it up. Nobody seemed to realise that was not the only area of the bed that needed cleaning...

"Harry?" he heard Sirius' voice, a little shaky, but calming nonetheless.

"I'm okay..." he said slowly. Sirius raised his eyebrows. "No really, I'm fine...now. It...it was my scar."

"Here," Snape said without expression, handing Sirius a potion flask. "It's a draught for nausea and muscle relaxation." Sirius took the flask without looking at Snape and helped Harry to tip the potion down his throat. Immediately, Harry felt his stomach and head relax significantly, though his scar still burned.

"I'm afraid there's nothing to do about your scar at the moment Harry," Dumbledore answered his unspoken question. "Though I assure you something will be done in the near future." Dumbledore smiled kindly at this and gripped Harry's shoulder. "Now, Severus, Sirius, if you please I would like a private word with Harry."

Sirius raised his eyebrow, but did not object as he followed Snape to the door.

"I'll be across the hall if you need me," he commented, addressing Harry.

"Right," Harry replied. He wished Sirius could stay with him.

"He will be back," Dumbledore once again answered his unspoken thought. "But for now, tell me what happened."

Harry told him with as much detail as he could remember. Though he didn't want to, he remembered how relieved he had felt after explaining what had happened in the graveyard at the end of last year.

"...and it's not hurting anymore, but I woke up and it...burned," Harry stated awkwardly, then added, "Um...sir, when I got sick in the bed here...I kind of..." he looked down to where the problem was.

Dumbledore gave a slight smile of apology and waved his wand. Harry felt something vanish from beneath him, a feeling of being clean came about, and he felt himself turn red.

"Sir," Harry began, facing Dumbledore after a moment. "Do you know why my scar did that when it hasn't bothered me at all since June?"

"Ah, Harry, a very interesting question indeed," Dumbledore sighed and put his hands together. "It is my belief that Voldemort has realised the connection between the two of you and is using it to his advantage. He most likely recognized it in June, when he touched your face and realised your pain, probably not near what you felt, and probably for only a mere second, but he felt it and has been putting the pieces of the puzzle together. This is also evidently why you have _not_ felt anything since June, as I imagine you've wondered. He has been applying defences against you so he does not invade your mind anymore than when he wants to."

Harry thought for a second, and then said, "So this will happen more?" He hated that thought.

"Unfortunately, it is most likely to happen more often than it should," Dumbledore replied, an edge of bitterness in his voice. "However, it is my wish that you take Occlumency lessons with me this year, as it will strengthen your mind and enable you to resist the connection and any pain Voldemort may wish to inflict upon you."

"What is Occlumency, sir?" Harry questioned, generally curious.

"It is the study of blocking one's mind from invasion by Legilimency, a branch of magic which enables one to see the thoughts and memories of another person." Dumbledore surveyed Harry, as though he were using Legilimency right now to determine Harry's reaction.

Harry frowned slightly. Occlumency seemed difficult. How was he supposed to block Voldemort's unfriendly thoughts when he couldn't control when he was subjected to them?

Dumbledore stood and nodded once to Harry, said, "Rest up, Harry," and, in a swish of his long purple cloak, left the room.

Sirius was waiting in the hallway. When he saw Dumbledore leave Harry's room, he turned with abrupt attention, waiting to hear anything.

Dumbledore's face was unreadable when he faced Sirius. Then he said, "Voldemort's aware of the connection. All we can do is hope he doesn't use it as we fear he will."

Sirius' face fell. He knew what that meant.

**AN:** **Sooo what do ya think? Cookie to you if you can guess how they fear Voldemort will use the connection! R & R please :D I'll update ASAP, I promise!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you to my readers so far! Every review and alert and whatever makes me smile ****I really feel this story has more of a future than my other ones. **

**Milanber: I promise you no slash – I'm not into that stuff. If there's a ship, it'll be Harry and Ginny, and Ron and Hermione most likely, but I may twist it up and make a love triangle or something. As for the evil Harry thing, definitely a possibility - we'll see how my imagination unfolds lol**

**Chapter 2:**

Dumbledore was keeping something from him. Harry wasn't sure what, but after having two full days of bed rest to brood on it, he knew it must be something important. And why did Dumbledore want to talk to him alone anyway if he wasn't going to _tell_ him anything?

He wished he could talk to Ron and Hermione, but Dumbledore was making him rest. And, grudgingly, Harry had to agree – he hadn't been sleeping much at all lately, and his little "episode" had taken nearly every ounce of energy he had had left. Harry's only regular visitors, besides Dumbledore, were Mrs Weasley, to bring him meals (Harry found this quite irksome, as whenever Mrs Weasley entered the room and saw him, she burst into tears, muttering about stress), and Sirius, because he insisted after not being included in the conversation Dumbledore had had with Harry two days previous (Harry quite enjoyed Sirius' company, though he thought something might be bothering Sirius, as his godfather wasn't nearly as cheerful as he normally might be).

Subsequently, it was quite surprising to find one Professor Snape in his doorway Saturday afternoon, looking sullen as ever, sporting his usual greasy and lank black hair and sneer.

"Potter," he addressed Harry without expression (being in the Order's house, he couldn't well go bullying the very person they were trying to help). "The Headmaster wishes me to speak to you about, ah, matters concerning your...wellbeing." he spoke the last word like it pained him to say it to Harry.

"Right," Harry replied, sitting up on his made bed where he had been reading _Quidditch Through the Ages _for the thousandth time.

"It is the Headmaster's wish for you to study Occlumency this year," Snape started in his monotone voice. Harry nodded; he knew this. "However, he is unable to teach you himself, and proposed that I be your instructor." At this, Snape upheld the expression equivalent to one having been smacked in the face with a large and utterly repulsive smelling fish.

Harry just stared. _Snape was teaching him?_ Well, his school just got so much more fun. Not only did he have the prospect of a Dark Lord with ever-growing power looming over him, now he faced having to deal with Snape and an unfamiliar subject (which he was sure he would be disastrous at), all in one go. Great, really what I need, Harry thought sarcastically. Instead of saying this, however, Harry just nodded, trying to keep his face from contorting into a similar expression to Snape`s.

Snape might have known what Harry was thinking for he continued with, "I assure you, Potter, I did not sign up for this voluntarily. It is beneath me to babysit children, especially insolent rule breakers and ignorant _celebrities_." He hissed the last word with such malevolence that, if he hadn't been a Gryffindor, Harry might have recoiled in sudden fright.

"I or the Headmaster will inform you of lesson times," with that, Snape turned swiftly and exited the room, black robes billowing around him, like dark wings.

/

Sirius was in a state of anxiety, though he didn't let it show. Dumbledore confided in only a few people the prospect of Voldemort having a connection through Harry's scar, and how he might use it if he finds out. Well, now he _had_ found out, they were sure. And they'd been expecting it, too.

"We should tell Harry," Sirius constantly suggested to Dumbledore, but Dumbledore had his reasons, even if he wasn't sharing them.

Seems to be a lot he's not sharing lately, Sirius thought darkly.

What if Voldemort _did_ use the whole "mind connection" thing to do real damage on Harry? What if he tried to possess him, or use him for other means, or turn him...but no, that's...that's not really possible...just worries, worries...

"...Sirius? What do you think?" came Tonks' voice from somewhere far away. Sirius snapped up at his name, looking around to her and the other six members of the Order of the Phoenix, now staring back at him, seated around the large kitchen table. They had been discussing what to do about Harry, a subject Sirius had voiced his opinion on very firmly indeed.

"Don't be stupid, Tonks, we _know_ what Sirius thinks," Bill Weasley's voice spoke to Tonks from across the table. "And I agree, to a certain extent. We probably should tell Harry what's going on. But maybe it'd do more damage than good. I still think we should let Dumbledore handle telling him whatever he might need to know."

Tonks pursed her lips and brushed her hot pink spiky hair from her forehead, seeming to decide not to comment.

"Some of us think otherwise," Lupin spoke calmly, collectedly, from Sirius' left. "Dumbledore has very good reasons for not telling Harry. I think it wise to put our trust in him, as he has more knowledge on the subject than anyone else."

"But that's just it, isn't it?" Sirius flicked his head towards his friend. "Dumbledore's not been letting us in on everything he knows. It's all so vague, everything he tells us! Harry's got some sort of mind connection to Voldemort, and Voldemort's trying to attack Harry. After those dreams and such last year, any old bloke who knew the situation could figure that much out! The only reason we know that for sure at all is because what he's dreaming is actually true, it's really happening! He's got more right to know than anyone else, so I say why not? Won't it help him to know and to _resist_? He's stubborn, he's got the willpower, and he's not a child. He's been through more than anyone here." Sirius sighed and leant back in his chair. He knew they wouldn't agree.

"You just said it, right there, Sirius," Lupin countered. "_Dumbledore hasn't told us everything._ Why do you think that is? Ever thought that Voldemort may use that connection to spy on the Order? I'm sure Dumbledore's thought of everything! We just don't know the whole situation, and for good reason. Let Dumbledore handle it properly, Sirius. Honestly, we could end up messing things around even more than they already are." Lupin looked weary and tired as he said this. But he was right...Sirius had to admit, he was right...

After three very long and boring days of rest and easy-going activities, Harry felt fit as a fiddle, though still slightly shaken. But it seemed as though even his nightmares had abandoned him for the time being, which made him slightly suspicious, but happy none the same.

/

Sitting with Ron and Hermione, back in his old room with Ron, he filled them in on what Dumbledore had told him and his wonderings of what Dumbledore was hiding from him.

"Could be anything, couldn't it?" Ron voiced in a low voice. "I mean, obviously something to do with You-Know-Who, what else could it be?"

"Well isn't it obvious it has to do with Harry's scar?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Honestly, it came to me immediately, the way Dumbledore was being so calm and how he spoke to you privately, Harry. It just _has_ to do with your scar...why else would you have collapsed like that?"

"Dumbledore said...last June, he said there was some sort of mental or emotional connection between me and Voldemort," Harry said slowly, thinking. "That's got to be it... but what could that connection even mean? I mean, it may not be what he's keeping from me at all..." Harry trailed off, unsure of his theories.

Hermione frowned and nodded, all three of the teenagers lost in his or her own thoughts. After all, a connection to Voldemort, the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time, really could mean anything...

**AN: Shorter chapter this time, but the plot will pick up in the next couple/few I promise. Soo thanks and plleeeeease R & R! :D**


End file.
